


Tomorrow

by heryellowcup



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Desperate Lena, F/F, G!P Kara, Happy Ending, Hickeys, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Lena Luthor is a touch starved lesbian, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Kara Danvers, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heryellowcup/pseuds/heryellowcup
Summary: Lena closes her eyes and lets out a long breath. Forcefully she gulps down any mean spirited words, in favor of her own sanity. Her hands are still trembling. She nods. “Okay.”“And tomorrow - tomorrow you can go back to hating me, if you want.”Lena intends to.Or,After finding out that Kara is Supergirl, Lena wants to hate her. She really does. But Kara is also the only one Lena's got left, and a late night meeting turns from spending comfort to desperate love-making.





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this for quite some time and finally had to write it. Also my second time writing smut, ever, so please withhold any harsh criticism haha! 
> 
> Enjoy!:)

_“You can call me, anytime.”_

Lena can practically _hear_ Kara say the words. The moment flits through her mind, in a flash of blonde curls and a charming smile, bright-blue and trusting eyes. If she wasn’t shaking so badly, perhaps she’d have reached for a bottle of scotch. Hell, the half-empty glass of it on her nightstand, now all molten ice and sorrow. And, perhaps, if she wasn’t crying still, she’d have snorted instead. Because clearly this is ridiculous.

The image of Kara follows her even as she closes her eyes once more, tries to focus on the raging storm outside. Blue and red must be out there somewhere, right in this moment, saving people. It’s the perfect profession for Kara, really, and Lena wouldn’t dare to deny it. She’d been so gentle from their very first meeting on, so kind and caring. Considerate. Lying. 

Lena hears her ragged breathing more than she feels the air burn in her lungs, wonders whether - if she’d rest a trembling hand on her chest- she’d feel the frantic beating of her heart at all. Because there are fingers, soft and steady, squeezing her shoulder - on that one day not too long ago. There’s Kara next to her, _holding her_ , and - god, she’s pathetic to relish the memory even now. 

Lena breathes in deeply. Once, twice, feels the dampness her own sweat has left on her pillow as she turns her head. She must look a mess. Feeble and weak, curled up like some miserable - 

Lena can barely move at all, and still she reaches for her phone. She holds it to her chest, runs her fingernails along its smooth surface. Feels its cold. Despite the pounding of the rain against her window, despite thunder, her room is eerily quiet. The entire apartment is, always. 

_“You can call me, anytime.”_

This time, Lena _does_ snort. The words leave an acid aftertaste, leave her wanting to rest her fist against the nearest wall. Hard. With a force that’d most likely leave some marks. Her own blood, maybe. Lena breathes in once more, tries to get up. It’s not like she’ll be able to sleep after the previous infiltration of her mind, image upon image of an eerily accurate depiction of her current state haunting her even while she’s supposed to rest. Her dreams have always been like this, rooted in reality more than anything. 

Bare feet hit the cold floor; the tall windows, right next to her bed, are a fog of lights and water obscuring her sight of them. Lena can barely see the city beneath, her own tears and the rain mingling in some sort of blind self pity. It’d be so easy to let those drops carry her down with them, and already she is losing herself in the anticipated relief it would surely bring. 

It’s foolish, to unlock her phone and type the only number she’s ever known by heart. It’s foolish to press the green button and wait, and wait, as the phone’s beeping synchronizes with the beating of her heart. As one calms down, finally, and the other seems to fasten. Lena feels unsure which does which, feels like it doesn’t matter once Kara, miraculously, picks up. 

“Hello? Lena?” 

Even now Kara sounds impossibly happy, somehow, to talk to Lena. Her call must be a surprise, too, Lena figures, as it is for even herself. For a few moments she just breathes, in and out, listens to Kara do the same - and to the rain outside. Her throat feels tight, aches, and Lena doesn’t know how to talk. Or what to say. What could she possibly-

“Lena?” 

And she’s got absolutely no business sounding so damn concerned. 

“Are you ok-“ 

“Kara,” Lena breathes out. Her voice is weak and so is she. A head of dark hair hits the still damp pillow once more, and all of the air Lena’s previously got left in her lungs dissolves in an instant. Just like that she’s at Kara’s mercy again. Whether she likes it or not, the blonde’s traitorous words will surely determine the path of this seemingly endless night. Lena feels robbed of her choice, even though it was _her_ that foolishly called. 

“Lena will you please-“ Lena tries to listen, but the thunder’s roaring outside is distracting, and giving in to heavy breathing would be so easy in comparison. Kara sounds _worried_ , and Lena wants to tell her how little she wants pity - though she merely manages to _inhale_. To stay alive. 

And her inner battle must have carried through the phone line, as Kara sighs and proceeds to talk, her words much calmer and impossibly reassuring. Disarming. Lena doesn’t want to revel in them, but their smoothness leaves her no choice. They are, she knows, what safety’s supposed to feel like once stripped of a name like _Luthor_. 

“Will you breathe with me? In and out, slowly. Can you try that for me-, for yourself?” 

“I don’t think-“ Lena chokes on feeble syllables and tears. 

“You can, Lena, I’m sure of it. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Than anyone gives you credit for, really. In and out, okay? You’re okay, you’re safe, and it’s going to be all right.” 

And oh, how badly Lena wants to believe what is clearly a lie. Perhaps she can pretend to, for a few moments, as she breathes with Kara. _In and out_. Ragged breaths, one after the other, until she feels notably less lightheaded and impossibly more humiliated. 

She shouldn’t have called. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” 

Lena nods, softly, her empty gaze focused on wet glass and some lights down in the city. Only once thunder strikes again does she realize the motion cannot be communicated through her phone, and yet - she supposes - Kara seems to have interpreted her silence as a _yes_. And that she’d been too shy to say it in a way more outright. 

Lena thinks the assumption to be appropriate. Clearly she’s not someone that is fond of sharing feelings - weaknesses -, and clearly Kara’d be the last person she should be confiding in. 

_And still she called_. 

“It wasn’t real, none of it. No matter how bad it was, I promise you’re all right. I promise to keep you safe.”

“Don’t bother,” Lena mumbles, mad more at herself than anyone else. Mad mostly at the weak state of her voice, her contradictory actions, _feelings_. 

She imagines she can hear Kara gulp. The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden, and Lena fumbles with the sheets once more as she awaits Kara’s next words. She anticipates them to be more important, anticipates to hate them more than she possibly could have previous ones. 

“I thought you hated me.” 

It’s more of a whisper, a question, than anything else. Lena’s heart clenches and a wave of disgust rips through her entire being. She cannot feel pity, guilt, regret. There’s no place for it, not when there’s supposed to be no more than anger. 

_I do_ , Lena wants to say. _I hate you with all I’ve got, and I never want to see you again._

“I’m trying to,” she says instead, truthfully, and wishes she’d have the guts to actually follow through with any and all things she’s repeated in her mind, over and over again. All of the things she’d like to say and do, to Kara. 

The only option left, hanging up, dissolves once, somewhere in this city, Kara decides to be the hero she has been all this time anyway. 

“Will you let me tell you a story? Anything, until you feel ready to go back go sleep?”

Lena closes her eyes and lets out a long breath. Forcefully she gulps down any mean spirited words, in favor of her own sanity. Her hands are still trembling. She nods. “Okay.” 

“And tomorrow - tomorrow you can go back to hating me, if you want.” 

Lena intends to.

* * *

Her bed’s notably more comfortable when Lena wakes in the morning, and the sun is shining again. Rays of it scatter around the room, fall warmly onto her face. It’s supposed to be nice, Lena can feel it. Hell, she can hear the birds sing outside - despite the loud traffic. 

But her eyes are still red and sensitive, and she’s tired. Lena wakes up and she _hates_ , just like she’s vowed to. 

In the back of her mind, a vague thought starts to spread like wildfire. She knows good people aren’t supposed to hate. And yet she has also learned, in recent events, what a great target _goodness_ is. People like that, they’re prey, get deceived, trampled upon. There must be some dirt left on her body, and shoe prints. Lena feels trampled on alright. And, of course, some good people lie. 

Lena starts to believe, slowly, that perhaps she can’t be either; good or bad. That perhaps a part of her is beyond those concepts, and that she’s fucked either way. 

The next time a nightmare prevents her from finding sleep, and every time after that, she calls Kara. Over and over again she revels in her voice, soaks up the attention and care Kara’s still so inclined to offer. 

And each time, Lena promises to hate.

* * *

It’s easy to pretend - to hate, that is - until one night Kara shows up. Until one night there’s a soft thump on her balcony, and a gentle knock on her window, and Supergirl looking more like Kara than the latter ever had: her hair damp from the rain, her posture weak and her eyes still impossibly bright. 

She tilts her head, questioningly, smiles subtly, and Lena feels fragile. She walks over to the window before she can think better of it, and lets in a sorrowful Kryptonian as though in need of shelter. 

They don’t talk much, at first. Lena hands her a towel and fresh clothes, can’t wait to get her out of the suit and simultaneously wishes Kara could keep it on. She needs a reminder, this night, what the blonde’s capable of. The lies, the deception, the- 

Kara’s looking at her with so much gratitude, so much love, that Lena almost forgets how much she’s shaking still, and about the tears that have been continuously running down warm cheeks. 

Lena settles back on her bed, curls up under her covers and tries to reduce Kara to a spot in her peripheral vision. She looks small in her room; not at all like some hero. Lena takes pity and lets their eyes meet. 

“You can sit down on the bed, if you want to,” she offers, and watches as Kara nods and takes place on the very edge of it. That she’s not leaving, not yet anyways, goes unsaid but is prevalent nonetheless. 

“Thank you,” Kara whispers, “I know you probably don’t want to see me...it’s understandable. You’ve got every right to hate me, you know?” 

“I know.”

Lena hates the way Kara draws in her breath and slumps down further, and she herself grasps her sheets tighter. She doesn’t _want_ to reach for Kara’s hand - totally and inconveniently in reach - but she fears she will either way, eventually, if she doesn’t keep her hands busy otherwise. 

“I just wanted to check up on you anyways. You know, in person. I’ve been really worried and -“ 

“You don’t have to be. I’m fine.” And Lena has to give Kara some credit, really. Because she’s relaxed her hand as well, resting it just next to Kara’s now. And still the blonde seems to be apprehensive, doesn’t touch Lena. She’s waiting for her to make the first move, but Lena doesn’t budge. 

“You’re _not_ fine!” Thunder roars outside just as Kara speaks the words, and for a moment Lena stupidly wonders whether that’s a Kryptonian power as well. 

“And whose fault do you think that is, Kara?” Lena’s voice is laced with more hate than she could have possibly intended, and instinctively she reaches for Kara’s hand. Their fingers barely brush and it’s not at all like previous and utterly familiar touches, but it’s _something_. 

It’s too much. Lena loses her much valued composure, in between soft touches and a harsh storm, sobs in her pillow and relishes the way Kara’s thumb strokes across the back of her hand, tenderly. She doesn’t exactly notice Kara coming even closer, drawing her in, but she’s in Kryptonian arms the next time she manages to breathe properly. There’s none of the expected feeling of threat, no repulsion or disgust. 

Instead, and despite herself, Lena buries her head in the crook of Kara’s neck, nuzzles tear stained features against soft skin. _Warmth_ , is all Lena can think. Kara’s comfortable and warm, the arms around her shivering body protective and so, so strong. 

“I hate you,” Lena mumbles, and smiles once she realizes her lips against Kara’s neck have a certain kind of effect. Where smooth skin had previously been there are now goosebumps. Lena looks up at Kara, through tears, and waits for another reaction entirely. 

“I know,” Kara nods, closes her eyes. “Can we- can we forget that for tonight? As we do always? I promise tomorrow you can go back to hating me, if you want, but you’re not _fine_ and right now I want to help. Be there for you.” 

“I didn’t think you’d really want to.” 

“I promised, remember? To keep you safe, always?” 

“Is that why you lied?” Lena asks, doesn’t want to hear the answer. Instead she desperately pulls Kara closer, grasps the soft cotton of a shirt that used to be her own and is now Kara’s. And then she admits something she never thought she would. Perhaps the storm outside is driving her mad. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” 

“You’re not.” It’s a whisper against her temple that Lena wants to believe more than anything else. And it’s followed up with soft kisses down her jaw, to her neck. For some unexplainable reason the action feels perfectly appropriate. 

“You don’t understand,” Lena struggles to breathe out, tilts her head to the side. Because she’s _weak_ , and Kara’s lips are _still_ everything she’s ever wanted. _Pathetic._

“Then explain it to me.”

Lena doesn’t think any words to be sufficient, not when her whole life’s been a concoction of loneliness and regret. “I just- I want to be someone.” And then, in a voice much smaller: “Someone’s.” 

The embarrassment she expects to feel is immediately overridden by a familiar throbbing between her legs, and a giddy feeling somewhere deep down in her gut. Kara’s still brushing her lips against her jaw, her neck. Just barely so. 

“Please tell me this is okay.” 

Lena feels the words vibrate against her throat, nods frantically, over and over again. But Kara halts her movements nonetheless, and when Lena reluctantly opens her eyes to look at Kara she sees some contradicting mixture of want and apprehension where only one of those should be. 

“Please, Lena, I need to know-“ 

“And I need to feel, _anything_. Please just, please…” Lena doesn’t ask for it in words, can’t. She feels choked up, her voice barely functional. Lena guides Kara’s head back to her throat, her jaw, her mouth, until they’re kissing heavily in the dark of her room. 

The storm’s still raging outside, but all Lena can focus on is the tongue in her mouth, and something hard pressing up against her leg. 

She forces herself to breathe, for just a second. She’s been aware of this for some time, and still feeling Kara, wanting and rigid against her bare thigh, separated only by some unwanted pieces of fabric, is - it’s everything. It’s consuming. 

Lena doesn’t know why Kara’s not inside of her yet, why she’s still all careful hands wandering along her hips and slowly down the front of her pants, until she makes out the vague feeling of teeth scraping along her already sensitive throat. 

It’s ridiculous. Lena should _hate_ , and yet she can’t even say as much anymore. Can’t even pretend. She nods instead, and tries to reach between Kara’s legs, tries to reach _anything_ of Kara, any part of her.

“Please,” she begs, pathetically. Her body now trembling for another reason entirely, Lena barely manages to convey, in whatever way, that she wants this. That she wants teeth and hickeys, and being _taken_ , being someone’s. “Please, I’m begging you-“ 

Words make room for equally as desperate moans after that, once Kara’s gotten to work. Lena can barely believe how utterly she enjoys being marked, being Kara’s, being- 

The pain is - it’s so- 

“So good.” Lena, at first, doesn’t realize that the words aren’t her own at all. “You’re so good Lena, you’re so good.” 

And it’s too much, somehow, the pain. Kara rocking against her leg. Kara praising her. It’s all she’s ever wanted, and foolishly she spurs it on further. She feels embarrassed to ask, to request, her voice thin and quiet. “Show me.” 

Kara does, and Lena feels her body build up to a long awaited release before she’s even properly started. It’s ridiculous, impossible. Kara’s not even touching her _there_ \- not yet - and still Lena can feel her all over, everywhere. Every stroke and every new bite, every new mark has her writhing and thrashing on the bed, against Kara, grinding down to find _some_ friction. 

And then Kara pins her down. Her hips, her entire body, until all efforts seem to be nonsensical. Lena thinks she must be a _mess_ , all sweaty and wanting and desperate. 

“Do you know how mating on Krypton works?” Kara asks, her voice so tender and gentle it stands out, contradicts the filthy atmosphere in the room. Contradicts how hard and rough Lena wants this to be, how she wants to be- 

Lena shakes her head and tries to calm her breathing, her racing mind. 

“My mom once told me that some people, well, that they’re granted a love so powerful and great that-“ Lena tries to listen, she _does_ , but Kara is getting rid of wet fabric between Lena’s legs, slowly undressing her, and each brush of her fingers seems to leave a mark on its own. Something hot and burning, spurring on whatever it is that has Lena feeling so absolutely primal and needy. “-and when you look at them, you just _know_. That it’s them, that you’re meant for each other.” 

Lena nods despite the words not _really_ making sense to her, despite them getting lost in some wild flurry inside of her mind. She loses it completely once Kara actually _touches_ her, _there_ , and by the time the latter enters her it feels almost too late already. 

“Kara, I can’t, I’m-“ 

She’s going to come, soon, can feel it in her core and in the way Kara grins against her skin. 

“So I’ve been longing for you to be mine this entire time- ” Kara whispers, her breath warm against the swell of Lena’s breasts. The slow and lazy thrusting of fingers is cruel, but good enough nonetheless. Perfect, really, and almost too much. Kara seems to hit just the right spots, each time, and already the third thrust pushes Lena over the edge. 

“Fuck!” 

“-since the very first time I laid eyes on you.” 

Lena grinds against Kara’s fingers until the latter halts, makes room for sensitivity and heavy breathing. The words catch up with Lena once she comes down from her high, and she smiles goofily while she tries to curl into Kara, to somehow get closer and relish the benefits of a Kryptonian - warm skin and strong arms. 

Kara whimpers as she does so, and Lena looks down to see the bulge in Kara’s pants, now smaller but still prominent. Even in the relative dark of her room, Lena can make out that one spot of grey fabric is suddenly a shade darker. 

“Sorry,” Kara mumbles as she gives way to Lena’s need to cuddle, pulls her as close as possible and holds her for quite some time. Still Lena doesn’t miss the blush that creeps up Kara’s neck. She herself can’t help but smile, revels not only in bodily contact, but also the knowledge that she’s not all alone, after all, in feeling _desperate_. It’s endearing.

“You don’t need to be sorry. Give me a minute and I’ll-“ 

But Lena’s so worn out already, her eyes still red and her whole body aching in a beautiful way - for the first time in forever. Lena never wants this moment to end, mourns for it as she feels herself slowly slip away. 

“For everything, I mean,” Kara says, but Lena’s close to gone already. 

And a goner, too. She’s closer to sleep than any waking state, and still smiling, by the time she thinks that, perhaps, she’ll go back to hating Kara tomorrow. This time, though, she knows it to be a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are _always_ appreciated! :)


End file.
